


new

by Augustus



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-17
Updated: 2001-10-17
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuart feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	new

**Author's Note:**

> Chronology: Set right after the end of the first series. I haven't seen the second.

Can't remember the point he'd started searching, but it seems he's found it anyway. There all along, too close to see, too blind to care enough to look. And doesn't that feel terrible, doesn't that twinge even the rustiest guilt-urge, because there's not so much fun in self-destruction when others block the fuse. Wasn't just himself he was hurting. Never was. Just couldn't see it, or perhaps it was easier to feign ignorance. But easy turned out to be a lie, turned out to be cold and dark and so goddamn lonely that even a fifteen year old imitation was enough to cling to for a while. Simplicity's a complex myth, poisonous in its delusive clarity.

Can't even recall the moment a name became a mantra, when giving a shit was suddenly the greatest vice of all. Perhaps not sudden after all, perhaps as old as friendship, as old as lies, but it's better not to think about that. Not now, possibly not ever. Easier to deny than to listen to the endless repetition. Just a word in the end. Nothing more, nothing less. No woven apparition, just letters without camouflage. Five. Seven if you're a teacher or in front of a congregation. And that seems to matter now, that irrelevant discrepancy. No reason why, no reason for any of it. Logic fails to explain the significance of a name.

Thought he'd known everything, done everything, experienced everything, but this is somehow different and he has a funny feeling that the name might be responsible. A name that makes him fragile, a name that seems to tear him right out of himself only to rebound and start again. Must be the name, couldn't be familiar eyes, familiar face, familiar everything. He's always preferred new things. Keeps his interest, makes him solid. Nothing new here so it must be in the intonation of the word, because he's never said it quite like that before and he's never known a kiss to be a conclusion in itself.

Why somehow seems irrelevant and this is enough, really, this warmth and this moment and this foolish assumption that there really could be more. And that he could like it. Strange really how the size of his world no longer seems to matter. Not so big after all and do you think he could actually give a damn when there's nothing between here and there except collapsible space and a life's supply of sculptured image? New is old, old is new and it just feels right: the name on his lips and eyes locked, searching. Nothing more to say. No need. Just letters and space and Vince. And that's enough. Always was.

**17th October 2001**


End file.
